


even now, you're my light

by takunism (weareinnoir)



Series: late nights, early mornings [3]
Category: JO1 (Japan Band)
Genre: Feelings, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25976548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weareinnoir/pseuds/takunism
Summary: Maybe it's fitting that everything starts during a time neither of them should be awake.
Relationships: Shiroiwa Ruki/Yonashiro Sho, a drop of fumiyasu, past!ynrk and rkys
Series: late nights, early mornings [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679806
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

Maybe it's fitting that everything starts during a time neither of them should be awake.

Sho is leaning against the kitchen table, eyes glazing as he tries to focus on his scribble-filled sheet music, and Ruki's sitting on a chair beside him, slumped over his guitar, pouting — Sho would think it was cute, if he wasn't equally frustrated. This is their fourth song, now, after the first three were rejected outright, and it's going absolutely nowhere; the clock on the wall is a reminder that _oh, the both of them could probably at least be in their respective bedrooms by now, if not asleep_. "Maybe we should call it quits for the night," Sho suggests, gently.

Ruki shakes his head and sighs, covering one eye with his hand. "It's definitely not going to get written tonight," he agrees, sounding more deflated than Sho would expect. "I just don't want to go to sleep yet."

 _Would he even be able to?_ Sho wonders, though he doesn't say it out loud. If it was somebody else — one of the kids, or Ren — he'd press further, but... but Sho knows Ruki relatively well, by now, and he knows it won't be that easy. It's his responsibility as leader to make sure everyone's at their best, though, so when he thinks of an approach, he says it out loud right away: "Let's head to my room and have a drink. I know I could use something to get my mind off of... this."

Ruki looks surprised at the suggestion, but nods gratefully. "A drink sounds... really nice right now," he admits, "And you _are_ the only other person here who can hold his alcohol, so..."

Sho laughs, and Ruki manages a small smile, so Sho considers that a success. He gathers his papers and starts walking to his room, with Ruki and his guitar right behind him.

* * *

"Can I sit on your bed?" Ruki asks, eyeing Sho's decor tentatively, as soon as he's in Sho's room.

"Of course, sit anywhere," Sho replies, fumbling around in his mini-fridge for ginger ale. "I'm making myself a highball, but if you want anything else —"

"Got any red wine?" Ruki interrupts.

Sho smirks. "Suits you," he comments. He pours Ruki a glass before fixing his own drink, and joining him. "This one is from an independent winery in Hokkaido."

"Of course you'd know that," Ruki says, accepting his glass gratefully and taking a sip. "Oh, that's fantastic."

"I know," Sho says, confidently. "I'm just glad I have someone to _share_ it with for once. You know I tried to go drinking with Junki, about a week after the finale?"

Ruki snorts. "Tried being the keyword there, I'd imagine? He matches with Keigo pretty well then. Poor thing's... loud. And clingy."

"Isn't he always?"

"He's worse when he's not sober." Ruki shudders in mock terror. "I guess I just should've been drinking with you the whole time."

"I guess," agrees Sho, with a small smile. "And I can think of worse solutions to writer's block than this."

Ruki groans, shaking his head. "I just can't write what they want me to," he complains, that (cute) pout returning to his face. "It's not that the words aren't coming out, I just..."

He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a long, long sip of his wine, nearly draining it, before he speaks again. "It's been... not easy without... Honda," he says, voice quiet and measured, while avoiding Sho's gaze. "I could write _so_ much about him — but that's not what they want right now."

Sho's breath stops in his throat — he'd known, he _knows_ , about Ruki and Kosuke's relationship, but to hear Ruki talk so bluntly about it is... something about it makes Sho's chest tighten. Ruki's not the type to be _that_ up-front with his feelings (Sho knows, since he's the same way), but here he is, opening up to Sho — it's selfish, but Sho wants to straighten his shoulders a little in pride at that fact.

"...I get that," Sho says, softly, after a long moment — if Ruki is being honest, maybe he can be, too. "I understand completely."

"You and Ando," Ruki realizes, before covering his mouth. "I didn't mean to —"

"No, it's — it sucks. But I haven't really... talked about it with anyone, either," Sho replies. "So maybe that's just what I needed."

Ruki shifts in his seat. "Neither have I," he admits, quietly. "I thought it'd make things easier if I pretended nothing was wrong."

"Exactly." Sho runs a hand through his hair. "What kind of leader would I be if I was stuck on my ex?"

"You're allowed to have feelings too," Ruki mutters. He leans back just a bit and bites his lip. "Distract me. Tell me something you two used to do together that's all couple-y. Maybe that'll be the inspiration I need for the song, right?"

"He used to rest his head on my chest," Sho says, a little bit too quickly, well aware that his cheeks are bright red, but unsure if it's because of the alcohol or the conversation. "Said it made him feel safe."

"I get that," Ruki says, with an unabashed glance towards Sho's pecs. (If possible, Sho's cheeks go even redder.) "I used to lie down on Yasu's... Honda's lap. He'd get so mad, and he'd also never make me move away," Ruki adds, with a smirk.

Sho sighs. "It feels like it was a long time ago. I wish I could... not think about him, think about anything else, but..."

"But he keeps showing up in your thoughts." Ruki finishes his glass of wine and shakes his head. He looks... almost regal, like this, Sho notices — the way his pretty fingers curl around the stem of the glass, the tightness in his jaw. There's always been a truth to his princely imagine — you'd be incredibly foolish to not acknowledge it, with that face — but here, sitting on Sho's bed, it really feels like there's an invisible crown on his head. He's a prince who's just reluctantly ordered an execution, perhaps, but he's a prince nonetheless.

"Except you don't want to forget him," Sho continues, instead of commenting on Ruki's appearance further.

"No, I would if I could." Ruki shifts. He always puts up a mask, even when the cameras aren't on him, at least whenever he's around Sho, and this is the closest he's ever seen that mask to breaking. (That pride swells in Sho's lungs again, and he does his best to quash it.) "He's — these thoughts — they're a distraction. If I could just... erase him entirely, I wouldn't hesitate."

Ruki sniffs — _oh_ , Sho notices, _he's trying not to cry._ His eyes shine in the dim lighting of Sho's bedroom, with pretty tears that he refuses to let spill — god, in what universe is it fair that Ruki's even handsome when he's crying? Sho shakes away that thought, though, and instead wraps a comforting arm around Ruki's shoulders. "I understand that, too," Sho says, softly.

To Sho's surprise, Ruki leans into his touch, slowing his breathing in an attempt to calm down. His breath comes out in shudders, but he never moves away. Minutes pass in a surprisingly comfortable silence, just Sho rubbing soothing circles on Ruki's shoulder, his drink more or less forgotten. Ruki's breaths calm down, eventually, too, and his eyes close.

"I-if it's not too much to ask," he says, voice mostly stable, "Would you... let me lie down? With you? I think I could use some _safe_ right now."

Sho inhales. His first reaction, much to his surprise, isn't to say _no_. Is he... is he _that_ lonely, without Tomo — lonely enough to actually say yes?

"If I've overstepped —"

"No," Sho interrupts. "No, yeah, it'd be... just, um, put your glass on my nightstand, so it doesn't... get anywhere." He downs the rest of his own drink in one fell swoop and haphazardly does so himself, before lying back in his own bed with some facsimile of casualness. Ruki soon follows.

For a while, they stay like that — Sho, lying down, with Ruki's head at the crook of his neck, a hand resting on his chest, while Sho absently plays with Ruki's hair. It's... nice, and comfortable, and _familiar_ in a way that makes something heavy and disagreeable settle in Sho's stomach.

It's Ruki that leans in, looking up through his eyelashes into Sho's surprised gaze for a long, long moment — Sho feels his heart pounding in his ears and time slowing down and Ruki's hands in his hair, gentle, not tugging or pulling, as his eyes flutter shut. He knows there's a smart thing to do, but he's wrecked (touch-starved at the very best and desperate enough that he doesn't feel half as guilty as he should) enough to know he can't do it this time. His hands find their way to the small of Ruki's back, pulling the younger just closer enough that they're kissing.

At first, it's like all of Sho is taken over by how _good_ it feels. Ruki just _fits_ into his arms, like he belongs there, and the kiss is easy — Sho read, online somewhere, back in his far more single college days, that a good kiss is like a dance, and suddenly, that's a metaphor that makes sense. Ruki leads, hands never leaving Sho's hair, nipping at Sho's bottom lip and pressing his tongue into his mouth, and Sho follows along as best he can — though he's more than a little rusty, he'll admit. It almost feels like his head is finally clear, like he's got something else to focus on — but then, _feeling_ settles in again. Sho inhales sharply through his nose, never breaking the kiss, but suddenly feeling like it's a lot harder to breathe, and not in the way he's supposed to feel.

It isn't bad — it's _great_ , actually — but he's _never_ kissed Tomoaki, or really, anyone, like this; there's no romance here, not a drop of love. It's a means to an end, and though it's not an end that Sho wouldn't appreciate, exactly, it's... it's not what he's used to. And it's not like Ruki isn't handsome — for fuck's sake, he's Sho's exact type, and he's thought that since before Why. But that was a different time and a different place, and he'd had Tomo then, and everything about this is so, so wrong —

Ruki pulls away, seeming to sense Sho's hesitation, eyes still glistening, lips bright red. "Listen," he says, face still so close to Sho's that it's hard to focus. "This isn't anything. This is just — we're both lonely, a-and we're comforting each other. It doesn't mean anything." He kisses the side of Sho's mouth, and then down his jawline. "We can both just forget for a while. You don't have to say yes — I don't want to pressure you — but if you do..."

And maybe it's the booze, or the residual high from Ruki's lips on his, but there's something that Sho hears in Ruki's voice — a plea. _Please, please say yes._ Sho answers in kind, pulling Ruki close once more, letting himself drown in Ruki's touches for a bit longer.

* * *

After that night, it's not exactly a pattern, but Ruki still stops by frequently enough that Sho knows he should stay awake. There are nights Ruki comes by to sing or play guitar with him. There are nights when they just drink and talk. And there are nights when Ruki kisses Sho so intensely but so easily that it feels like something he was born to do. (It's Ruki who decides — it's Ruki who always knocks three times to let himself in. Sho's got no control over the situation; he isn't sure what he would do with it, if he did.

Well, that's not exactly right; he knows very well what he'd do, can picture it in his head, though he doesn't, for fear of driving himself crazy. It's not bad, the image of Ruki looking at him with something lighter in his eyes than what he usually sees. He just doesn't like the way it makes him feel.)

By the time Sho acknowledges how he feels (it isn't a realization, not exactly, because if he's being brutally honest, he's been more than attracted to Ruki for a long, long time; there are still leftover feelings he has attached to Tomoaki taking up space in his heart, but his feelings for Ruki have become much, much stronger), he figures it's too late to act on it; every relationship has rules, and Ruki's made it clear that the doesn't want anything aside from physical comfort. It's something that Sho's more than happy to provide. It's not that he _doesn't_ want more, because he does — it's more that he doesn't want to push away what they already have.

(It's not like Sho _hides_ his feelings for Ruki, exactly, anyway — the younger is always the first Sho checks on when the group's schedules go late at night; it's Ruki's shoulder that Sho squeezes when they're sat next to each other on the rides home. He can pass _those_ moments off as leaderly concern, though, so do they _really_ count?)

And then Sho gets sick, and everything changes. _I'm not going anywhere, not now, or ever_ — is _that_ something you say to your friend with benefits? It's to the point that Sho keeps waking up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, with Ruki's voice in his ears.

The affection, the care, the _honesty_ in Ruki's voice isn't something you can _fake_ — and yet, Ruki's still the one who shows up and leaves as he damn well pleases. There's a chance he was lying to make Sho's nightmares go away — a big chance, really, one Sho's mulled over in his mind countless times. (The fact that his nightmares lead to him muttering _Ruki, please don't go_ is a matter he's mulled over a lot less; it doesn't stop the memory from popping up at inconvenient times, but he's not _actively_ thinking about it, and that's what matters.)

But the way Ruki's hand felt, clasping his, the chance Ruki _wasn't_ lying — the inkling that Ruki _might_ feel, even if it's just a little, the same way Sho does about him — it's something that Sho holds on to, certainly, though it's not something he tries to hope for. And though he certainly notices the times Ruki lets his guard down around Sho, however minutely, he doesn't cling on to _those_ , for the sake of his own heart and his own sanity.

So there's a not a pattern to Ruki's visits, but there certainly _is_ a pattern to Sho getting away from Ruki. He wakes up earlier than everyone else, early enough to make himself a cup of coffee and to head to the gym — the coffee helps wash away whatever feelings he woke up with, and his workouts have always been for his own sake, anyway. Any time spent with his mind _not_ on Ruki is welcome in Sho's book. Moreover, though, everyone else is — usually — asleep when Sho comes back.

So when he gets home from the gym early one morning, planning on looking through some papers, to find Keigo nursing a cup of English breakfast tea in the kitchen, Sho's a little surprised. "Good morning," he greets, not bothering to hide it. "You're up early."

"As are you," Keigo agrees, after another long sip of tea. "Working out?"

"Yeah," Sho replies. He's never been the closest to Keigo, and their small talk is incredibly stagnant, but he presses on — "Everything alright, or are you just up early?"

"Just up early. The house is so quiet before Syoya and everyone wake up," he muses.

"It is," Sho says, managing something close to a smile, and starting to brew himself another coffee. (He feels, suddenly, like he's going to need one.)

Keigo downs the rest of his tea and haphazardly puts the mug in the sink. "You do this every day? Make coffee and... I don't know, go over the schedules or whatever?"

"The work is a nice distraction when I have stuff on my mind," Sho says, shrugging.

"Stuff on your mind? A former Johnny's Jr. and underground idol that keeps leaving your room at weird hours of the morning, maybe?"

Sho looks up, surprised, and nearly drops his fresh cup of coffee — but then just shakes his head, damn it. "I didn't know anyone else knew," he admits. "That obvious?"

Keigo laughs. "I mean, like I said, weird hours. It doesn't take a genius."

Sho sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Does anyone else... _know_ know?"

"I think Ren's got the idea, after Ruki's little stint as your nurse." Keigo bites his lip. "Takumi's clueless, though, and Junki _definitely_ is."

"...That's comforting," Sho says, weakly. "Um, if you could keep this as down low as possible —"

"Don't worry about it," Keigo interrupts, shaking his head and putting up a hand. "It wouldn't just be your career going down the drain if this got out, you know."

"Again, comforting," Sho grumbles. "But, yes, to answer your question... since you know already. He is one of the things i'm concerned about."

"So it's not going well, the... whatever you're doing." Keigo leans against the counter with that look on his face — the one he gets when he wants to solve something. "Talk to me about it."

"I'm not sure if that's —"

" _I'm_ here. Might as well get it all out."

Sho runs a hand through his hair — what he'd give to be having this conversation with someone else, though he's not sure who. (Maybe Naoto.) But it looks like there isn't an easy exit in sight. "I've... not been sleeping," he says, after a long, reluctant moment.

"Sound the wedding bells."

A blush creeps up Sho's face. "It's — it's not like that."

Keigo raises his eyebrows. "So you're not _dating_ , you're just...?"

"I'm sure you can fill in the blanks yourself," Sho says, shortly. "It's just... y'know, comfort. We both... it's not like either of us made it out of the finale in one piece."

"Ah." Keigo nods. "Sounds simple enough to me. Not worth going to the gym in the ass of the morning or anything."

"It was a lot easier before I got sick. I guess I wasn't really expecting him to... take care of me like that," Sho explains. "Or say what he said."

"And what exactly is it that he said?"

Sho closes his eyes — again, the desire to talk about this with _anyone who isn't Keigo_ pounds against his head. "I had a nightmare. I don't remember the specifics, just that... he held my hand and told me that he wouldn't go and..."

"...And you've been messed up ever since." Keigo nods, seemingly understanding. "Are you sure he just wasn't trying to shut you up so he could sleep?"

"It's _Ruki_." Sho bites his lip, swallowing his worries about the younger's insomnia. "I've thought a lot, actually, that there's a good chance that's the case. But I think..."

He takes a deep, deep breath — suddenly, the gap between _acknowledging how he feels_ and _actually voicing them out loud in words, to Keigo_ feels like a canyon, but it's one he has no choice but to leap over. "I think I... kind of... god, what's the expression? Caught feelings? And I think there's a _modicum_ of a chance, a _giant_ maybe, that Ruki might... feel something similar." He's sure his face is bright red, at this point.

Keigo lets out a low whistle. "Wow," he says, after a long moment. "Does he know?"

"What do you mean?"

"If that's actually how you feel," Keigo asks, "If you're so into him that he's _literally_ haunting your dreams — then why haven't you told him?"

It's meant as something to pierce his armor, Sho realizes — and unfortunately, it's effective. "I... can't," Sho says, finally, his shoulders deflating. "I can't do that to him. It's not what he wants."

"And you've talked to him about this," Keigo says.

"No, but —"

"So you don't know if it's what he wants or not?"

"He's never dropped a hint or anything, y'know, saying that he wants... a relationship, or anything," Sho explains. (Well, maybe that's not quite true; there _are_ nights, as few and far between as they are, where Ruki stays with him through. But Sho chalks those up to the younger just being tired.) "And he's the one who — who first initiated things, so... if he wanted more than this, I'd know. Because he'd let me know. And what we've got going is already so fragile. I'm lucky enough to have this."

Keigo looks at Sho silently for a moment, with an expression the elder can't quite read — "Sho," he says, finally, "but what about _your_ feelings?"

"What about them?"

"You're still allowed to _have_ them," Keigo says, like it's obvious — Sho winces at the echo of what Ruki had said to him before. "And if you don't talk to Ruki about them, you're just setting yourself up to get your heart broken. He'll keep using you, or god forbid, move on. The hell did you do to deserve that?"

"I think that's enough," Sho says, trying not to show on his face that he's... kind of mad at Keigo for overstepping, and for being a lot more right than he wants to admit to. "Thank you, for your advice, I just — can't deal with that right now."

"...Well, think it over," Keigo says, standing up and leaving the kitchen with a self-satisfied smirk. "I'll leave you to your coffee."

"Thanks," Sho grumbles. He sighs and shakes his head, in a poor attempt at moving his thoughts elsewhere — there's an entire day ahead of him, after all.

* * *

That night, Ruki doesn't bother with any of the usual pretense of wanting a drink or to practice guitar; he knocks on Sho's door and closes it quickly behind him, pulling Sho close by the hips and pressing his open mouth against his. It feels fantastic as usual, though the intensity of it surprises Sho; "You good?" he asks, when he can catch his breath; it's hard to focus, though the both of them are startlingly sober.

Ruki shakes his head. "I don't wanna talk about it," he replies, not leaving any time for Sho to answer before capturing the elder's lips again. He leaves quickly when they're both done, as usual, leaving Sho alone with his already-too-complicated feelings.

He lies back in his bed and sighs, covering his face. God, he doesn't want to call it love — that's so heavy, for what they're doing. But what else is he supposed to call the weight on his heart that only expounds whenever Ruki leaves?

He tries to imagine the _more_ he wants from Ruki, allowing himself that fantasy, for once; images of Ruki, his smile, his fingers intertwined wish Sho's own while the two of them walk together, flood his mind. He imagines serenading Ruki, properly, not just the two of them strumming half-remembered lyrics in the middle of the night, and watching a blush creep up the younger's ears and cheeks. He imagines whispering _I love you_ to Ruki as they settle in for a sleep that refreshes both of them —

He wants Ruki's happiness, more than anything else, but at the same time, he's kind of tired of being the selfless one all the time.

They need to talk about this — _Sho_ needs to talk about it. And it needs to be in Ruki's room, he realizes, as specific that is — nothing will change if he doesn't have the power to leave.

* * *

There's a bit of leaderly authority that Sho's sure he's abusing, as he knocks on Ruki's door, co-opting the younger's _taptap-tap_ pattern. Ruki is obviously surprised when he opens the door — "...Everything alright?"

Sho takes a deep breath; his chest squeezes tightly. So this is what _now or never_ feels like. "Yeah, it is. I just wanted to talk for a second. May I come in?"

The over-formality of his words makes him cringe, and a look settles over Ruki's face like a dark cloud. "Yeah. There's not really anywhere to sit, but..."

"It's fine. I can make this quick." Sho knows it's a lie as soon as the words escape his lips, but — but it's like ripping off a bandaid. (What's a little less reassuring is the brief flash Sho sees in Ruki's eyes — he knows very well that Sho's lying, too.)

Compared to Sho's room, Ruki's is far more sparsely furnished; understandable, Sho figures, as Ruki himself is usually the only person in there. He rocks on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets, the tight twist of nerves in his stomach only tightening. "I just, uh, wanted to talk for a second. Quickly," he adds, as if that'll make it true.

"Yeah, you mentioned," Ruki replies, crossing his arms. Everything about his body language, every minute detail of his face — it all screams _I don't want to do this or be here._ Sho swallows.

"I just, uh... I wanted... clarification," Sho says — he hopes it comes off less like he's not sure how to say what he wants to, and more like he's just choosing his words carefully. "I don't remember a lot of what happened when I was sick."

"Of course you don't, you were running a ridiculous fever," Ruki says, tone softer than Sho expects — though he immediately picks up that defensive stance again, straightening his shoulders.

"I was. Thank you for taking care of me, then."

"You'd do the same for me." Ruki shrugs. "Is this... going somewhere, or —"

"No, yeah, I promise." Sho runs a hand through his hair, before quickly shoving his hand back into his pocket. "I just... have this memory, kind of, of having a nightmare, and you... holding my hand through it. And did you actually say... that you weren't going anywhere? Or something like that?"

Ruki sucks in a breath, and it's like the world goes still. He bites his lip and looks off to the side, eyes troubled — it's the same look he gets, Sho realizes, when he's trying to decide what to write in a song, or when he's playing Pokémon with Ren and trying to decide what move to use next. Sho's sure he's calculating every word of his response, though what he's calculating _towards_ is more of a mystery.

He finally meets Sho's gaze again, after a moment that feels seemingly endless. "I did. I held your hand and told you I wasn't going anywhere." The _coldness_ of his tone sends a shiver down Sho's spine. "What did you want me to do, leave you alone? You would've just been sicker if I hadn't. The entire team would've suffered if you had stayed down..."

His mouth hangs open, for just a moment, an unsaid _myself included_ hanging in the air. It disappears when he closes it, taking a deep breath to re-orient himself. "I was just trying to get you to sleep again. Don't read too much into it."

It sounds like a lie. The way Ruki's eyes dart to the side after he's done saying it, too — he's _definitely_ lying.

But there it is — there's the hit Sho was expecting, the one he'd prayed so hard wouldn't come. It comes so casually that he almost doesn't register it, at first, but when Ruki's words finally sink in, a sensation not unlike his spine being snapped in two hits him all at once. Though he can't hide the disappointment that washes over his face, he tries to muster up a smile regardless. "...That was my second question, then."

"...What is this actually about?" Ruki asks, a frown coming over those prince-like features. "What was your second question?"

"I was going to ask if... if you meant it." Sho shakes his head. "I was wrong for assuming it was anything but that." He swallows hard, trying to ignore the lump in his throat, before he continues: "And I think... that maybe we should end this, Ruki."

The room goes still; emotions, some of which Sho can easily label, others he can't, flash rapidly in Ruki's eyes. " _This,_ referring to... what, us sleeping together? Forgive me, but I don't think I follow."

"It's my fault," Sho says, insistently. It's natural for him to take the blame, like this; the words spill out of his mouth, even if he doesn't quite believe them. "I overdid it and caught feelings, and that's on me. I just don't think I can do this anymore."

Ruki's frown turns softens. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"...I didn't want to push," Sho says, like it's obvious. "It was never a _feelings_ thing, it was the both of us forgetting for a while — and I'm past the point of forgetting."

"Sho, what is it that you actually want?" Ruki spits.

"You," Sho replies, so instantaneously that it shocks him. "It's _been_ you, Ruki. For a while now. That's why I can't..."

He trails off, running a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up somewhere deep in his lungs. "I already get that you don't feel the same way, so can we maybe stop dragging this out?"

Ruki is silent for a long, long moment after that; Sho considers just leaving, before Ruki speaks up again. "You should've told me the _instant_ you started feeling like this."

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Well, it's too late for that, now, isn't it?" Ruki snaps, arms crossing. "You're so fucking _selfless_ all the time, and it's great until you cause collateral damage hurting yourself."

"It was _never_ about how I felt. It was _you_ who came on to _me_ , remember," Sho says, taking a deep breath. "And here you are trying to convince me to keep this going. You're lying through your teeth. At least I acknowledge how I feel, Ruki."

"You don't — you don't get to assume that I feel a certain way. And anyway, you've never even _tried_ to push me in the other direction. How was I supposed to know?"

"I thought I made it pretty fucking obvious that you don't need to put up walls around me, but I guess I was wrong. You're just trying to protect your own heart, because if you don't listen to it, it can't break. And yeah, maybe I am being too passive," Sho admits, "But you're never going to make the effort either, are you?"

"Then you're right. We should end this," Ruki says, after a moment, a note of finality in his tone. "Neither of us are acting on our true feelings anyway. So let's forget this ever happened and —"

And Sho's gentle by nature, but god, something in him snaps — maybe these weeks of built-up romantic frustration have finally reached his head, because before Ruki's even finished his sentence, Sho's got his hands on either side of Ruki's face. Sho's kissed Ruki hard before, plenty of times, but this is different — every ounce of passion, desperation, and _love_ Sho can manage is in it. It's a message, full of words Sho can't quite voice. The moment Ruki starts responding, Sho pulls away. It's petty, but at this point, he's beyond worrying if he comes off as mean.

It takes him a moment to catch his breath, afterwards; Ruki, too, is panting, eyes wide, a bewildered expression on his face. "There's me acting on my true feelings, then," Sho says, almost ashamed that he let himself give in so easily. "I'm... gonna go."

He closes the door softly behind him, so as not to wake up anyone else on Ruki's floor. He doesn't let himself cry until he's safely in his own bedroom; he tries to keep the noise down, knowing Ruki can hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

It isn't like Ruki planned this. 

He's clever, and he knows how to get what he wants; that doesn't mean any of this night has gone how he's expected. He likes his late night songwriting sessions with Sho, certainly; they're a welcome respite from idol life, something that makes him feel more like an _artist_ than a product. And as a result, yes, he's been spending more time with Sho, but this _idea_ — this tipsy thought that just might put a band-aid over the cut on his chest that's still bleeding — is spur-of-the-moment. It blooms somewhere in the selfish part of his brain as he feels Sho's chest rise and fall. He remembers Kosuke's words, their agreement — _it'll be too painful to keep going if we're separated, so if only one of us makes it... let's end things between us, then and there._

He's almost curious if Tomoaki had told Sho something similar. Or maybe, with the two of them, fumbling around in a relationship neither of them were quite used to, it was less of an agreement and more of a fizzling out. 

Putting thoughts of what Sho and Tomoaki were like back then aside, at least for a moment, Ruki considers his predicament. He doesn't like showing how he feels on his face, and if he does this, he's letting himself be more vulnerable than he'd like; if it was anyone besides Sho he had the chance to open up to, he most certainly wouldn't. But at the same time, he's pretty sure Sho himself is also a lot lonelier than he's letting on — there's so much he shoulders, as the leader. Ren helps — Ruki tries to help, too, seeing as he's worn the shoes Sho is wearing before — but Sho's stubborn. The both of them are. He's not the type to ask for help unless he really, _really_ needs it; he carries that stress deep inside, but he carries it nonetheless. (Ruki's known that much for a while.)

There are so many moments Ruki catches, at certain songs or turns of phrase, where there's a forlorn look in Sho's eyes. He's got a missing piece that he won't talk about, because, well, he's Sho — this is the most Ruki's heard him speak on it, and it's only because Ruki opened up first. He's _hurting_ , and trying to hide it; maybe Ruki picks up on it because he's the same.

(The difference between the two of them is that Sho, Ruki is sure, is doing it out of a sense of vague chivalry; he doesn't want to burden anyone with his feelings. It kind of pisses Ruki off, to be honest; Sho nearly doesn't take care of himself, he's so focused on everyone else. There's no need for him to be such a martyr, just since he's the leader. 

Ruki himself, on the other hand, is the first to admit to how selfish he is; maybe it's cruel, maybe it's lonely, living like this, but at least he can move on easily, building up layers of resistance around his heart. He opens up — or doesn't, in most cases — for his own sake, and his own sake only.)

So if they do this, it'll be good for the both of them, Ruki figures. And when he thinks about what _he_ himself wants, well — he wants strong arms around him, someone who's going to pull him close for every time Ruki pushes. Sho isn't Kosuke — and Ruki knows that he, himself, isn't close to Tomoaki — so it's not a sure thing, but as he runs his hands through Sho's soft hair and watches his eyes darken, feeling those big hands on his back, Ruki knows he'll win. 

And as he captures Sho's lips in his — intensely but emotionlessly, as the elder starts to follow his lead — he takes the light feeling in his stomach as a signal of his victory.

* * *

Ruki's fingers linger on his lips after Sho leaves. His heart is like a jackhammer in his chest, the ghost of Sho's hands on his cheeks. 

_I fucked up,_ he thinks. 

He slumps against his door, still shocked — _this_ is it, this is the time where words have failed him. (It only took 22 years.) This is not the clean break he wanted; the atmosphere stays heavy, pressing down on his shoulders. He could've said something, _anything_ , after that kiss — he could've _stopped him from leaving_ , but it's too late, now. Sho's not gone, but what they have — _had_ — has shattered completely. And Ruki is _frustrated_ — at himself, at Sho, at the entire situation. He plays the memory back in his head, at everything that Sho had somehow been conveyed without words, the sensation of Sho's lips moving against his — and the fact that _oh, it's going to be the last time._

What makes everything _that_ much worse is how silent the night is afterwards — even on nights when he doesn't come over, Ruki still falls asleep to the sound Sho's guitar and his voice ringing out. It's one of the only things he can actually, soundly, fall asleep _to._ And now it's gone, and it's nobody's fault but his own.

Ruki closes his eyes, as if that'll make anything better, as if he'll actually manage sleep if he goes through the motions. He runs over his list in his head, again: if he's not with Sho, he can't get his heart broken by him, either. It'd be dangerous for both of their careers if what they are — were — doing got out. There are scars, still, lines on both of their hearts left by names that haven't come out of their mouths in months. There's a chance he's just tired, or hungry, and those physical sensations are just making the emotional ones worse, that's all. 

( _Pathetic_. There's a bitter taste in Ruki's mouth that he wants to spit out.)

Maybe a relationship built on mutual heartbreak and alcohol wasn't meant to go anywhere, anyway. The part of Ruki that's particularly cold likes that idea a lot. 

The part of Ruki that's so, so tired of making excuses likes it a lot less. The part of him that's so lonely, the one that needs Sho, _wants_ him just as much, pounds against his lungs, makes it feel like the air in his room is too heavy, and _screams_ so loudly that Ruki covers his ears and squeezes his eyes shut to attempt to block it out. Sleep isn't going to come any time soon. Of course it won't. They've got practice early tomorrow, so that's going to suck — but maybe that's what Ruki deserves for breaking Sho's heart.

He wants to drink, but of course, most of the good booze is in Sho's room. Another punishment, he supposes. With a sigh, he locks his door and futilely puts his head on his pillow.

* * *

Things don't go back to normal after that night; Ruki didn't expect them to, but it still unbalances him. On the surface, of course, nothing changes; their relationship, what they were doing, was always a secret, so the fact that it's dissolved completely isn't an excuse to act any different. Ruki's always acting, anyway — the role of someone who's completely fine is one he's more than used to. 

He's probably too paranoid, watching everyone else's reactions the way he does — Keigo in particular will sometimes give him a strange look, like he knows more than he's letting on — but seeing as even Naoto hasn't approached him about it, Ruki figures it's fine. He smiles and jokes when he has to, takes a few melatonins every night so that he's awake enough to practice the next day, and pretends. 

(He'd be lying, as well, if he didn't note that he's been checking on Sho, when he can. His gaze falls on the elder's lash line, making sure there aren't any dark circles under it; he'll ask Junki to make sure he goes to bed on time, since if anyone won't question it, it's him. Just because Ruki isn't sleeping with Sho any more doesn't mean he can turn off the part of him that _cares_.

And he doesn't really _want_ to turn that part off, either.)

Regardless, at the very least, nobody asks about it, at least not where Ruki can hear. It takes almost another month and Mamehara Issei, of all people, to bring things up to Ruki's face. 

They used to have actual movie nights, the three of them, Sho, Ruki, and Issei — Suicide Squad was a mistake, maybe, but the _experience_ of making fun of how awful it was made it feel special. That one movie night turned into an almost-once-a-week tradition, with whatever Kamen Rider movie, cheesy romantic comedy, or thriller serving as the backdrop to their bonding.

And, to Ruki's credit, he's been trying to keep things alive, for Issei's sake; he still invites the younger into his room on Wednesday nights, for a movie. It's not at all the same without Sho, but he's _trying_ — so the way that Issei brings it up kind of feels like a stab in the guts. 

"Did... did something happen? Between you and Sho?" Issei asks, pausing the movie on a frame of Dr. Pac-man looking particularly menacing. (Maybe that's appropriate.)

"...And what gave you that impression?" Ruki asks, because wow, he's not going to answer _that_ directly.

Issei sighs. "He's not here, and this is the third movie night in a row without him, firstly. You keep staring at him with puppy dog eyes when you think nobody's looking, but when you talk about him you're weirdly passive aggressive. So I guess what I _should_ be asking is _what_ happened between you and Sho," Issei finishes. 

Ruki frowns. God, leave it to the baby to cut so harshly into him. He wonders, faintly, if Issei's been the only one to notice, or if he's _that bad_ at knowing what everyone else is talking about. "Did you ask Sho about it?" he asks, which... isn't a good deflection at all. 

"He asks about you whenever I'm over," Issei replies. That makes sense, Ruki supposes — Issei _is_ always playing in Sho's room. "And everyone's noticed that you guys don't hang out like you used to."

Well, that answers _that_ question. Ruki sighs. "You know, normally, when you pause a movie, it's to explain Kamen Rider lore."

"Some things are more important than Kamen Rider lore."

"Who are you and what have you done with my Mamecchi?"

Issei laughs at that, thank god, and for a moment, Ruki thinks he's off the hook — but the atmosphere snaps back in an instant. "If you're not going to tell me what's wrong, I get it, but... you guys still like each other, right?"

"Of course," Ruki says, instantly. It feels kind of good to not lie about it; he _does_ still like Sho. (That's kind of the problem.) He pauses for a long time, after that — this isn't the kind of thing he can _explain_ easily. Issei's a kid, basically, after all. "We just... it's something you'll understand when you're older," he decides, as awful as that must sound.

"God, it sounds like you guys are going through a divorce," Issei says, with a pout. 

At that, Ruki feels his ears go red — a thousand different denials dance on his tongue, though he doesn't quite manage to get one out. "L-like I said," he begins, "it isn't like I hate him, I like him, it's just —" 

"I get it. I just miss him being here. And he misses you," Issei adds, as he presses play on the movie again. The topic is dropped from then on out, though whenever Ruki looks over to see Issei's reaction to things, fresh guilt paints over what already was there.

* * *

Three nights and a few glasses of (good, certainly, but not as good as the kind Sho buys — Ruki googled about a _million_ independent wineries without being able to find the specific one Sho buys from, with no success. It's not like he can _ask_ , either, which makes it somehow worse) wine later, Ruki finds himself awake — even the effects of his sleeping pills have worn off, and he's wide awake. The ceiling of his room is barely visible in the dark, but he stares at it anyway, as if sleep will come if he can make out a pattern in it. 

He sighs and rolls over. He's drunk and he wants _Sho_ — those are the arms he _knows_ he could fall asleep in, made all the more tantalizing by the fact that _no, he can't._ Everything changed so abruptly, and then stagnated; he still doesn't exchange more words with Sho than he has to, and he definitely can't just waltz over and do what he wants again.

It's lonely. _Ruki_ is lonely. Maybe it's his inebriated state that lets him admit it, but god, he misses having someone he can call up any time for the comfort he _needs_.

Well, maybe that's not the whole story. 

There's one person he can call, actually. It doesn't start off as an idea, as much as it does a half-joke from a dark part of his mind: _You could always call Kosuke._

Ruki frowns, then — he _could_ , couldn't he? Wants to, even. It's been months; setting aside from the wound that's still not fully healed, he misses having someone he can talk about anything with — someone he can be vulnerable around. Maybe there's closure waiting. Maybe Kosuke's moved on, too, noticed the eyes Fumiya was — _is_ — always staring at him with. He's already pulling out his phone — he can blame the decision on how drunk he is, if he has to.

It takes a few rings — it is pretty early in the morning — but Kosuke picks up. "Dude."

Ruki giggles — he can't actually believe his plan worked. "Yasu-kun. You're awake?"

"Yeah, 'cause my phone just went off at 4 in the morning."

"I know. I'm sorry," Ruki says. "I just... can we talk? I need your help... I need to hear you..."

Ruki trails off, and Kosuke sighs. "Don't tell me you're too drunk to remember what we agreed on."

"You can tell I'm drunk?"

"I know you." There's the sound of Kosuke's mattress shifting. "What are you calling about, actually? You're not the only one with a crazy schedule, you know."

"I — I know. I just..." Ruki takes a deep breath. "I need... my best friend. I'm not booty calling you. I just really fucked something up, and I need my best friend f-for a while."

There's silence for a long moment after that; Ruki almost thinks Kosuke hung up, before he hears another sigh. "Hit me."

"...Thank you." Ruki runs a hand through his hair — he's suddenly gripped by a sense of nervousness. Maybe he didn't really expect to get this far, or maybe there's just an impenetrable layer of awkwardness that comes with talking to one's ex about the person you were, until recently, sleeping with, because it takes him a second to find the words. "I... seriously fucked something up," he begins. 

"You mentioned."

"I know, hold on." Ruki sighs. "I slept... started sleeping with Sho."

There's another long silence on the other end of the line, and the chance that _maybe Kosuke hasn't moved on_ suddenly hits Ruki like an avalanche. He quickly starts speaking more, desperately, to explain: "The first time, we both were drunk, we were talking about you and Tomoaki and —"

"That's fine." Kosuke's voice is short; he doesn't sound _frustrated_ , exactly. It's the voice he uses, Ruki realizes, when he's working through problems with his own members. "Spare me the details. How'd you mess it up?"

Ruki swallows dryly before he continues. "I... ended up really liking him. As more than a leader o-or a friend with benefits."

"But he wasn't over Tomo?"

"No, it's not that." Ruki shakes his head, though it's not like Kosuke can see it. "It wasn't a question of remaining feelings, after a while. I just didn't want to get hurt. He confessed... kind of, to me, and I said some things I didn't mean and... and I just don't know what to do," he finishes, faintly aware that his voice is getting stuck from trying not to cry.

"I'm guessing you haven't talked to him since, knowing you," Kosuke says.

"Not more than we've had to."

"Well, there's your first mistake." There's the sound of Kosuke's bed shifting again. "Communication is the foundation of _any_ relationship. Be that friends, romantic interests, a leader and his members... you'd know that too."

Ruki sighs and closes his eyes. A fresh bud of guilt blooms in his lungs. "I know."

"And trying to seem like it's not affecting you is just going to hurt you more."

"Who said I was trying to seem like it wasn't affecting me?"

"I know you well enough to know that's what you're doing," Kosuke replies, simply. "It took _three years_ for you to cry in front of me for the first time, dude. You hold back. That's only fine to a point."

"Collateral damage," Ruki mutters.

"And... well, you care about Sho. That much is clear. So you're hurting him, too, which in turn hurts you more... man, I can't believe you called me at four in the morning for _the_ most simple advice ever."

"I knooow. But you've put up with me for this long, asking basic questions..."

"I guess I have." There's an unmistakable affection in his voice that makes Ruki feel warm; friendship, he figures. 

"If that's everything," Kosuke says, after a moment, "I _do_ kinda have an early practice tomorrow —"

"No, yeah, that's all. Well, I missed talking to you, so... when I'm less drunk and emotional, can we do this again?"

"I'd like that."

"...And can you talk to Fumiya, for me?" Ruki adds, the thought coming into his head last minute. 

"About what?" Kosuke asks. He doesn't sound confused, exactly — it's more of a slight curiosity that Ruki hears in his tone. 

"Just talk to him," Ruki insists. "I don't know. Corner him after practice and actually look at him, for me, okay?"

"...Okay," Kosuke says. "I will. Now try to get some sleep, or your manager might kill you."

"Or yours might kill you."

" _Goodnight_ , Ruki."

Ruki smiles, though Kosuke can't see it. "Goodnight." He ends the call with a sigh and flops down on his bed; again, he doesn't quite sleep, but at the very least, he's not absolutely hating himself when his head hits the pillow.

* * *

After that, Ruki starts planning — if talking to Sho is what he has to do, then god, he'll do it, if only to soothe the gnawing at his chest. It works, kind of — there's a spring in his step at practice that even Naoto comments on, while he tries out about a million apologies in his head. He'll find the perfect one, and then...

And then, maybe Sho won't love him again — maybe he doesn't deserve that. But that's something he's going to have to make peace with too. Besides, for once, it's not the darkness he's clinging to — he's hoping for the light.

So one night, when Ruki hears three knocks on his door, his blood runs cold. Yeah, he's been practicing — he's pretty sure he knows exactly what to say when the time comes, but the time has _not come yet._ He stills, right there, in his pajamas, for a solid 30 seconds — god, he isn't _ready_ —

Three knocks come again, this time with a voice. "Ruki? Are you awake?" Sho says, his voice soft. 

"Yeah," Ruki says, his own voice coming out far more panicked than he'd like it to. "Yeah, um, let me open the door for you —"

He scrambles over and fumbles with the knob, letting Sho in. He looks fresh out of the shower, in shorts and one of his workout tank tops; his dark brown bangs are still damp, sticking to his forehead, and there's a look in his eyes that Ruki can't quite read. 

It's silent for a long moment, as Ruki tries to look anywhere besides Sho's face. "We... haven't talked in a while, have we?" he decides, finally. 

Sho nods. "It's... it's been some time." He bites his lip. "You've... been good, right?"

Ruki half-smiles; this is nowhere near their usual rapport, but it's _something._ "I've been doing about as well as I can be," he says; at least it's honest.

Sho nods, and shifts in place, rocking on his heels, before he continues. "I came here for a reason. I... got a text from Honda-kun," he says, quietly.

Ruki frowns. "...Honda-kun," he repeats. 

Sho nods. "It'd be better if you read it yourself." He hands Ruki his phone with hands steadier than Ruki would be able to manage, he's sure; as his eyes flit down to the first line, he nearly drops it. 

_Take care of him for me._

The words are there on Sho's screen, right in front of Ruki's eyes, but they don't feel real; he reads them once, twice, but they don't change. His eyes go up to the contact screen, again — it's definitely him, _definitely_ Yasu, but —

"Keep reading," Sho says, quietly. 

Ruki blinks once, making a brief eye contact with Sho, before he continues reading. 

_Ruki likes you. A lot. Probably more than he wants to actually say, knowing him. Chances are he's not even going to bring it up to you on his own, but he called me up for advice about how to deal with this and everything. So whatever you do... let him down gently if you're going to let him down, and take care of him if you plan on being with him. I don't have any doubts that you two will be good for each other, but you can never be too sure. That's my best friend you'd be with, after all._

_So be good to him and take care of him for me._

Ruki's eyes meet Sho's again, for just an instant; he wants to look away, to run, but then, Sho speaks. The words are a quiet echo: "Ruki, what is it that you actually want?"

A thousand words flash in Ruki's mind — _you_ is one of them, certainly, along with _in my defense, I was going to talk to you eventually, just not now_ and _thank good for Honda Kosuke_. And yet — and _yet_ —

Ruki shuts his eyes, bites his lip — it's not easy for him to get the words out, even now, even when he's more sure than he's ever been in his life. All of his rehearsals — everything that he practiced, that he _wants_ to say so badly — slip from his mind completely, leaving a blank space where his thoughts should be, but he has to say _something_.

"It's okay if you hate me, or if... you don't want this anymore," Ruki begins, quietly, after a moment. He can't bring himself to meet Sho's gaze — he doesn't know what he'll see in those eyes, if it'll be pity or concern or guilt or whatever else — so he looks instead at the ground, which is at least stable, though it does feel like it's swirling around him. "I know I've beat myself up over how things went with us... a lot. And if this is too little too late, like, I get it."

He's stalling, he realizes, and not even in his usual too-damn-eloquent way — but he _has_ to push on. His hands curl into fists as the words continue to spill: "I remember that in the instant I started things with you, it was because I thought that _maybe_ you'd be like him, or that I could _make_ you be like him — and that's on me, too. I'm sorry. That was no basis for a relationship, solely physical or otherwise."

"You were never the only one lonely, Ruki," Sho says, his tone of voice infuriatingly understanding and gentle. "I was using you just as much as you were using me —"

"You don't have to say that. It's not true," Ruki insists, finally gathering the courage to make eye contact with Sho. His eyes are so _soft_ that it makes Ruki's chest hurt. He has to swallow, and make his eyes busy looking to the side at his chest of drawers, before he continues. "Maybe we were both going through it, yeah, but you were always so kind to me. You must've been going insane, while all I did was push you away and make excuses a-and..." 

"Ruki..."

Tears press behind his eyes — god damn it, this isn't supposed to happen, _no._ He squeezes his eyes as tightly shut as he can before he manages a shaky breath and words. "You were right. You told me I was just trying to protect my heart, a-and you were right, Sho. I don't... like being vulnerable, I don't like being this honest, but that's not even an excuse."

"Ruki."

"I don't know when it started but I like you _so much_ — and I almost wish you hated me, because that would be easier than you just rejecting me."

" _Ruki,_ listen."

Ruki swallows. He's ready for the blow to come, so he opens his eyes to take it. His meet Sho's, and he manages a smile. "It's okay, Sho," he insists, like that'll make it hurt any less.

"It is," Sho agrees, before wrapping Ruki up into a tight embrace.

Ruki lets out a choked, surprised noise — words fail him, for the second time, as he lets himself be enveloped by Sho's warmth. His tears actually come out, as much as he wishes they wouldn't, falling on to Sho's t-shirt. He feels one hand on the back of his head, stroking gently, and the other around his waist, and _affection_ coursing through his veins as sure as his blood is. 

"I thought you'd hate me," Ruki murmurs against Sho's chest.

"I couldn't hate you if I wanted to," Sho replies. "I would've been fine with that actually being the end, if that was what you wanted."

"It wasn't. It never was," Ruki assures him, pulling back just enough so that he can look Sho in the eye. "It just took me a while to convince myself to stop pretending."

"I'm glad you did." One of Sho's hands gently wipes at Ruki's cheek — oh, so he _did_ start crying, at some point. He sees Sho's eyes flicker down to his lips, eyebrows raised like he's asking a question — _can I...?_

Ruki nods, almost imperceptibly, and lets his eyes flutter shut. Sho presses one soft kiss after another against Ruki's lips, while Ruki wraps his arms around Sho's neck, accepting all of them.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" Ruki asks, when he has a moment to breathe. "It's a lot easier, um, for me to sleep. When I'm with you."

Sho seems surprised for a moment, but he nods. "I think I'd really like that," he whispers, and their faces are still so close that Ruki's dizzy with emotion. He rests his head on Sho's chest again — there's that safe, warm sensation — and lets it overwhelm him.

(There's that feeling in his stomach again, too — that lightness. Ruki can name it, now; he keeps repeating what it is, over and over, in his heart and on his lips and in his mind, as the night continues. Love, love, _love._ )

* * *

Again, things change — this time, markedly, for the better. Keigo stops giving Ruki weird looks when they pass each other in the hallway; movie nights, with Sho, Issei, and Ruki all together, return. And for his own part, Ruki stops looking around to make sure his facade of normalcy hasn't cracked; there isn't a need for it anymore. 

Maybe the best thing, though, are all the minute details that get to be _his_ — the way Sho's eyes look when the last notes of Kabutomushi ring out from his guitar, the way his hands feel around Ruki's waist when they're sleeping — and they do _sleep_. It's easier in Sho's arms. Ruki's more energized than he's been in a long, long time; he's _happier_ , too, in a way that he'd nearly thought he'd forgotten. And the knowledge that Sho's happy, too — the way his cheeks get red when he's making dinner and Ruki hugs him from behind, his lips while he holds Ruki's hand in his and kisses the tips of his fingers —

Those little moments make all the late nights and early mornings so, so worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with that, she ends! i almost thought of writing a fumiyasu continuation for this but then... i literally never want to think about this verse ever again. it feels like i've expelled something from my body and now i'm free.

**Author's Note:**

> i am so happy to have this done i can't even do my usual self-deprecating "ugh my writing sucks" thing. i'm just so glad this is over and i can, in theory, write things that aren't this. title from lemon by kenshi yonezu and may i interest you in an [inspiration playlist?](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3Qlnabfct3BDIte9CixJ05?si=kRxcXjdcTw2urSsWvJQvJQ)
> 
> come bother me on twitter for being bad at writing: @jo1taku


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